


Magic and Magic: What Could Go Wrong?

by mechanicalUniverses



Series: RvB Fluff Week [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, M/M, Nothing explicit, OOC maybe, RvB Fluff Week, Vampires, authors interpretation of mythical creatures, just in case, mentions of eating humans, mythical creatures, sorry for inconsistencies hrhshdf, this is silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicalUniverses/pseuds/mechanicalUniverses
Summary: “You, with no reflection,” the fey smiled. “You think you’re safe. You think I cannot see you.” They caught the vampire’s face, a sweet smile on their lips, eyes shining.—A vampire being hunted by a fairy. What a fucking joke.





	Magic and Magic: What Could Go Wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this was prompted by an anon on my tumblr for Fluff Week! if you’d like to send me a prompt, feel free to send one to my tumblr, which i will link below! enjoy!

He knew he was being hunted.

It felt odd, being a vampire and all, being below something in the food chain. Immortality sort of gave you that automatic assumption. Which, in Grif’s opinion, was not that far of a reach.

But he did know one thing. It sucked major donkey balls.

He takes a deep breath as he presses himself flatter against the wall. He nervously swipes his tongue across his protruding fangs, feeling how dry the feel. From somewhere in the house comes the echo of a tinkling laugh. It’s deceptively sweet, sounding like a more liquid sounding version of wind chimes tinkling in the breeze than a real laugh. That laugh had come to haunt his sleep as of late. Wholly unnecessary, really. His life was already being threatened every day. Why go all the way and ruin his rest?

“Foolish,” whispered a satin-smooth voice from the walls. Grif’s eyebrow twitches faintly. The voice had been deeper yesterday. Rougher. More human sounding rather than the literal airy-fairy tone. Was it a different fairy? Shit, were there multiple of them in here? Fuck. Shit, dick, _fuck_. “You cannot run from me.”

“Yeah?” Grif said confidently to the ceiling. “You sure about that?”

The fae laughs again as he hurries around the corner, the floorboards creaking underneath him as his feet pound through the hallways. He closes his eyes, imagining the attic three floors above him, with his too-small bed covered with musty blankets, the slight chill of the air up there, the dust-covered antiques and trophies from his victims, and in the blink of an eye, he’s there.

He heaves a deep sigh and sits himself down on the bed, praying the creaking springs don’t immediately give him away again. If he’s quiet, maybe he won’t be found for just a little bit.

His hands are cold again. He blows on them and rubs them together. He must be hungrier than he thought,

“You,” whispered a voice behind him. Grif curses loudly and turns reluctantly towards the mirror, mouth dropped into a scowl. There, in the space where his reflection would be if he had one, was a handsome, pointed face, leering at him with eyes that flashed like cold gold coins in the sun.

Grif tilts his head slightly. It was the first time he had seen his face. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe a more empty, glazed doll sort of schtick. But it was actually oddly nice. “You,” repeated the fae, “with no reflection. You think you are safe. You think I cannot see you.” His shining eyes caught Grif’s, and a sweet smile graced his thin lips. Grif raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“No, I don’t,” he snorted. “Literally, I knew you could see me the second you decided to trap me here with you. Which, by the way, dude, fuck you. Do you know how hungry I am?”

The fae pauses, evidently taken aback by the interruption. “I—”

“And seriously? The epithets?” Grif rolls his eyes. “Way too dramatic, dude. This isn’t some shitty fantasy novel from the 1800’s.”

“Sarge said it was the right amount of dramatic,” grumbled the fae.

“Yeah, well, _Sarge_ doesn’t seem to realize this is the 21st century. What the fuck kind of name is Sarge anyway? Is he in the military?”

“Don’t you dare disrespect him!” squeaked the fae. It’s such a stark difference from the tone just thirty seconds earlier that Grif can’t help but burst out into startled laughter.

“What happened to your voice right there?”

“Nothing!” he snapped, face turning as red as the roots of his hair.

“Right,” Grif drawled. He settled back against the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Okay. Fine. I didn’t hear a thing. Moving on. Why am I here?”

The fae tilts his head. “In the metaphorical sense? With God?”

“No, asshole, I mean in the sense of why the fuck did you trap me here? I can’t kill you. You can’t kill me, not really. Unless you wanna watch me starve to death or some shit, which’ll take like, ten years”—that was a huge fucking lie—“and that’s just a waste of time, really, even on my terms.”

“No,” said the fae triumphantly, “I know you haven’t eaten in two weeks already. I’m surprised you’re even standing still.”

“I’m not standing,” Grif pointed out. “Also, you’re stalking me? Flattering, but not the way to woo me.”

“I wasn’t wooing you!” the fae said heatedly. “I was just gathering information about you!”

“So you were stalking me. Do you even know my name?”

The fae coughs awkwardly. “You… Look like an Evan?” he offered weakly.

“Oh _hell_ no,” Grif said, offended. “How the fuck—Okay, whatever, gold star for effort. It’s Grif.”

“Oh.” The fae settles himself on the edge of the desk and kicks his legs out a few times. “I’m Simmons,” he said into his chest.

“Simmons,” Grif repeats. “Okay. So why’d you trap me here, Simms?”

Simmons’ elongated ears flicker down and he finds a sudden interest in the wall. “I dunno,” he muttered meekly. “Felt like it.”

“Bullshit,” said Grif immediately. Simmons shrinks back into himself even further. Maybe Grif’s eyes were deceiving him, but he physically appears to be getting smaller. It’s downright pitiable, especially compared to the creepy, genuinely terrifying front he had earlier. Grif rubs his clammy, still frigid hands together. “Okay. Let’s see. You’re a fae. You either wanted something like a trophy, or maybe gold. But you didn’t just take it and leave me alone. You went after me and didn’t touch my shit. So then you trapped me here and chased me around instead of outright attacking me.” Grif snaps his fingers. “You were lonely! So you trapped me here so I would talk to you and be your friend, right?”

Simmons gawks openly at him. “How did you…” Shame crosses his tiny features, and he curls his knees up to bury his face in them. “It’s just that it’s happened so many times,” he said quietly, voice muffled. People come. People leave. Nobody ever tries to say hello back to me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“One, that’s because they can’t hear you dumbass, they’re humans, two, they might die if they could hear you, and three, that’s sad as shit, dude.”

“Shut up.”

“Whoa, hey, that wasn’t judgmental. I feel you. It’s lonely as hell. Humans die. Super inconvenient, right?”

“I suppose so? I’ve never had one die here. They always leave really soon after they arrive.”

Grif grunts as he pushes himself up and approaches the desk. He crouches, bringing himself eye level with Simmons. “Tell you what. You let me out of this shithole, and I promise I’ll come back to talk to you…” Grif trails off in thought. “Meh. Whenever you want, I guess. Not like I have much to do anyway.” Grif winces suddenly as a pulse of hunger rages its way through his temple. It snakes itself all the way to his jaw, and his fangs feel bigger in his mouth. “Ugh. Besides eat. So how about it?”

“Do you promise?” Simmons asked sharply, jerking his head up to look at Grif scrutinizingly. His eyes are bright again like a spark had been rekindled.

“Sure. Look.” He holds out his pinkie to Simmons. Instead of taking it, he merely stares at it in confusion. Grif sighs. “It’s a pinkie promise. It was made ‘cause if you broke the promise, the person who broke it would get their pinkie broken. No one actually uses it like that anymore, but it works good enough.”

Simmons pulls a face. “Why are humans so fucking weird?”

“Dude, I don’t know. They’ve always been like that as far as I’m concerned.” Grif wiggles his extended finger. “How about it?”

Simmons warily sticks out his own pinkie. It doesn’t take long for them to realize there was no physical way he could wrap it around Grif’s. So he settles for standing up and simply wrapping his arms around it. A shock of warmth spreads through his finger and throughout the rest of his hand. When he lets go, he leaves behind a tingling sensation. Grif stares at his hand in slight surprise before shaking his head. He must be imagining it.

“I’m gonna go find food,” he said. “Wanna come with?”

“Eugh, pass. I’ve seen you guys eat. It’s disgusting.”

“Suit yourself.” Grif waves lazily, then vanishes and reappears at the front door. He puts his hand out the open it, but stops an inch away and stares at the doorknob suspiciously. Slowly, cautiously, he puts the tip of his pinkie to it, then swings it open when it doesn’t send a searing pain through his entire body. He’s halfway through the doorway when a small voice cries, “Wait!”

Grif smirks and turns to Simmons, who is fluttering anxiously a few feet away. “Yeah?”

“I’ll—I’ll come with you,” he said, wringing his hands. “Just don’t completely tear them apart, please.”

His smile grows wider. “That wasn’t a part of the promise.”

“Oh my God.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! again, if you’d like to send me a prompt so i can have excuses to write sappy shit, hit me up on [tumblr!](https://scintillating-galaxias.tumblr.com/)
> 
> sorry if this isn’t my best work ever. i am pressed for time, but still would like to participate in this week!


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